I’m looking for myself today because I’m all alone* I glance out the window and think of my former home *Where have I gone, What have I done, I bend down and pick up a stone*He’s rejected me again, I’m pulling out my hair, will I ever learn? *The rain begins to fall and tempers start to flare*The sound of anger in his voice and his callous stare just breaks my heart and brings me tears*I’m looking for myself today because he decided not to love me and is no longer here.
I am somewhere else not where I am lost in this daisy atmosphere going up, up, up
I was in a good place the other day but now I’m drifting away- too far, too much
As if there were no gravity to hold my soul in place and it hurts as it’s being torn out
The bpd is getting the best of me driving people I love away- even after he took me back
What kind of a fool am I that my mind torments me so as indelicacy grips my ribs and won’t let go
Will I survive another day to endure more of myself or at least what is left of this mad hat sanity
I am somewhere else not where I am and lost in this daisy atmosphere.
Have you looked back on an older poem you wrote and said, “What does this even mean?” That was me today. Lol.
He chopped at the log with the fury of a Greek God
The foggy mountain top he raised his head to gaze
Armed sufficiently when insincerity and indecency collide
His flaming head now full of dread and thinking that he’s dead
Damning thoughts they disappear the ax he swings relieved
Fully consumed with gratitude she lays him-freed, in the ground.
Yes, my poems seem dark and dreary. One time I tried a happy verse but it didn’t seem to work. The clouds blocked the sun, the earth began to shake.The time and space continuum collided and NASA locked me up. Then, the CIA got involved and called me a national threat. They flagged my email, spied on my journal and called the President. All the Heads of State met deciding what to do. They put me in orange, cuffed my hands and threw me in Gitmo. So, I no longer write the happy verse and have begun to curse. You should hear the words that came out-even the terrorists became afraid-and ran from this little blonde girl.
Photo Credit: http://m.blog.daum.net/_blog/_m/articleView.do?blogid=03X1h&articleno=15222229
Blending memories with the weighted glare of her disconcerted eyes, I wonder…
Was it my fault he left her for another woman as he gripped her son good-bye?
The drama builds in my terminally odd mind filled with casual complacency
From the ledge I look up at the lucky stars and feel regret rain down from the sky
When suddenly I turn around, it’s her.
As I tumble to my death, I let out a helpless cry.
Radical illary lies
Poking the Publics’ eye
I’m breathless, from running in the meadow deep∼while trying to distinguish the weeds from the trees
I’m panting, mouth open and pleading for more ∼so restless, still moving my tongue back and forth
I’m wanting, from wandering around in the snow∼licking my lips and savoring the cold
I’m falling, from slipping on rocks in the brook∼rubbing my thy up and down where it hurts
I’m confusing sleep with being awake∼fading in and out of dreams as the blood starts to seep.